


Aziraphale needs saving and Crowley has the perfect solution

by livingforazirowley



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Additional Kissing, Alcohol, Bookshop, Boys Kissing, Crowley's Bentley (Good Omens), First Kiss, Hedonist Aziraphale (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Kissing, M/M, Makeover, Miracles, Not Beta Read, Punk, Punk Aziraphale, Punk Crowley, Surprise Kissing, bar/pub, brief angst, it's all about kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-09-07 13:43:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20310457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livingforazirowley/pseuds/livingforazirowley
Summary: It's the late 70s and Aziraphale needs to help someone in a punk club. Crowley helps him blend in so much that Aziraphale is almost harassed and Crowley goes to the rescue.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am a firm believer that Crowley went through a punk phase and I had to explore that. Also, I love protective Crowley. So this is what I came up with, I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> PS: I'm not native speaker and I don't have beta readers, so please forgive me and/or constructively comment :)
> 
> PPS: I thought I left a few unresolved things, so I started working on a second chapter. I also took the chance to update some things in chapter 1.

“Crowley? What are you doing here?” Aziraphale could not hide his excitement when he recognised the demon, although it had taken him a bit longer than usual do so. They hadn’t seen each other in over seven years and of course Crowley had changed his look. Fortunately enough, thought Aziraphale, he was no longer wearing that 70’s moustache. Don't get him wrong, he had loved every one of Crowley's looks, but that particular one didn't seem very practical. Instead, his face was shaved clean and he had a ten inches spiky mohawk.

“Aziraphale!” answered Crowley, grinning and opening his arms as if welcoming the angel. “What are you doing here?” he gestured towards the pub. “This place isn’t very much like you”.

“It isn’t, is it?” he chuckled nervously, wriggling his hands. “Hum, actually, I’m here to perform a little miracle, nothing too complicated” he looked around. He wasn’t feeling as comfortable as he would have liked to, but work is work and sometimes you just have to ride a horse all the way up to Edinburgh.

“Oh, that shouldn’t take long then, I suppose? Maybe we can have a drink afterwards, if you like. Do some catching up” he suggested. Crowley didn’t want to miss on the angel in punk territory and was going to make sure he had front tickets for it. “Although maybe you should change your clothes. You’re standing out like a… punk in church, actually” he smiled, amused by his own joke.

“What’s wrong with my outfit?” he looked at himself, a little bit hurt by Crowley’s comment. He had had that vest for almost a century now.

“It’s fine, angel, it’s just it’s not… punk enough” he shrugged. “Come with me, I’ll help you”, he took Aziraphale’s hand and led him to the toilet without waiting for an answer from the angel. Aziraphale was a bit shocked by the unexpected physical contact, but didn't complain and took the chance to study the demon’s outfit. And everyone else’s outfit, for that matter. Crowley was right, his clothes did not match the surroundings at all. There were mohawks like Crowley’s everywhere, leather jackets, tight broken jeans, black heavy boots, many nails and studs all over, both in clothes and in human body parts. It felt like just the opposite to what he was wearing.

Crowley was sporting a sleeveless black jean jacket and tight leather pants, as well as his usual snakeskin shoes. The look was complemented with bracelets, at least six piercings that Aziraphale could see from where he was standing and a new tattoo on his lower back that was showing a small bit at a time with each of Crowley’s steps. He tried in vain to identify what the tattoo was depicting, his hips were moving too much. The demon was rocking the look as he had rocked every look throughout history, with his own unique twist to it. Aziraphale sighed, wondering if he would ever look as good as Crowley always did.

“Get in, angel” said Crowley, interrupting Aziraphale’s thoughts once they got to the toilets at the far end of the bar.

“I don’t know, Crowley…” he hesitated. The style had nothing to do with him whatsoever.

“Oh, c’monnn, don’t be like that. It’ll be fun!” he begged.

“Fun? It will be embarrassing, if anything” muttered the angel in response.

“It doesn’t have to be. In fact, I would be more embarrassed dressing like you are dressing right now in this place” he looked at the crowd to prove his point.

“Is that supposed to be encouraging? Because it felt like a very gratuitous insult” Aziraphale said, feeling attacked by the demon’s comment.

“Of course not. How? Really, angel? Have I ever, ever said anything bad about the way you look?” Crowley looked at him in disbelief, a hint of pain in his eyes. He had always loved how comfy the angel had always looked despite the excessive tartan, but apparently he had failed to acknowledge it. It seemed that Aziraphale would always think of him as a demon and nothing else, prone to distress everyone around, including the angel. Not even another six thousand years of helping him would change that.

“You just did” said Aziraphale, as if it was obvious.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I’m helping you mingle with the folks here so you can perform that little miracle of yours. Do you know what kind of trouble I could be in if someone from down there saw that I’ve been helping an angel?” of course he knew, the Arrangement had been in place for centuries, but Aziraphale had to be reminded more often than not. “Plus, it will be fun” he added and pulled his best goofy smile. The angel was still unconvinced, Crowley could see that, but progress was being made.

“I suppose it could help, yes… But I’m not sure I want to go that far” he looked at Crowley’s bare chest and then to his pierced ears and hair, one brow raised.

“Don’t worry, angel. It wouldn’t suit you, I can see that. We will look for something you can pull off, is it right for you?” he asked, looking at Aziraphale in the eye, lowering his sunglasses just enough, to try and instil some confidence in him. He couldn’t blow this off now, he was already picturing the punk angel and now he needed it to be real. The angel looked him back with an arched brow, not a hundred percent convinced, and eventually entered the restroom.

“Alright, let’s get this started” Crowley put his hand on his chin and looked at the angel from head to toes and back. He couldn't encircle him as he would have liked to because of the limited space the place had to offer. “Turn around…" he said instead. "Hum, yup, I think I’ve got it. Are you ready?” the goofy smile was there again.

“As ready as one can be, I suppose” he sighed, still uncertain but trusting the smiling demon.

Crowley snapped his fingers with the widest grin the angel had ever seen.

“Oh God, I don’t want to look” Aziraphale shut his eyes. “How bad is it? It is bad, isn’t it? I’m going to miracle my clothes back” he started to move his hands and Crowley stopped him just in time.

“Relax, angel… You actually look quite neat” Crowley was satisfied with his own work. He took Aziraphale by the shoulders and made him spin so he would be facing the mirror. “Open your eyes, I promise it is not bad at all”.

Aziraphale slowly obliged, fearing what he was about to see. “Oh” he said. “Oh” he repeated, in a softer tone. Then, a pause that made Crowley wonder momentarily if he had made a mistake. “It’s not that bad, is it?” he finally said, his lips curling in the smallest smile. He was wearing a white t-shirt with what seemed to be ripped-off sleeves and a pair of white wings drawn on the back, as well as some light blue jeans, all broken and filled with holes. “These are comfy” he said, wiggling his toes in the white sneakers. Crowley had added black leather wristbands with studs to put a little bit of punk into the look. His hair remained the same, blonde curls going all over the place matched the outfit.

“Hum, there’s something missing…” Crowley scanned Aziraphale once more, admiring the newly exposed skin for a moment. He pitied that he wouldn't show his arms and thighs more often. He coughed, trying to get his thoughts back on track and tapped his lips with his finger. “Oh, I know!” he snapped after a while and miracled an eyeliner into his hand. Aziraphale looked at it as if it was some kind of torturing device.

“What do you think you are doing with _that_?” he recoiled and bumped into the wall, staring at Crowley with panic in his eyes.

“Seriously, angel? It’s just a little bit of makeup. See?” he painted a black line on his own hand. “Nothing dangerous. And you can easily take it off if you don’t like it. But I guarantee you, demon’s promise, you will love yourself with it. Now, do you trust me?” he took a step forward, eyeliner in hand, and stopped, waiting for permission.

“Should I? You said it yourself, you’re a demon” he snorted, trying to hide this sudden illogical fear that had gotten into him.

“Yes, but not any demon, right? You know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. In fact, I’m helping you, so you should be thankful. So now, may I?” he moved forward holding the pencil closer to Aziraphale’s face. The angel nodded but didn’t relax, pushing his hands to the wall as if looking for something to hold on to. “Alright then, let’s do this”. Crowley placed his hand on Aziraphale’s cheek to steady himself before he started painting. His hand was soft but firm, warm against Aziraphale’s skin. He almost leaned on the touch. “Don’t move” his tongue was out, all concentration. Aziraphale tried to look to the ceiling to facilitate the task at hand and also to distract himself a bit from the closeness, the situation turning out to be more pleasant than expected. He started counting light bulbs. There was a grand total of two. He looked back at Crowley. It seemed like his mouth had something hypnotic and Aziraphale couldn’t help himself before looking at it, wondering what that something could be. He thought of touching those lips and checking if they were as soft as they looked. Perhaps he could even taste them, that being his most refined sense. “Don’t move!” Crowley repeated. “And look to the ceiling, will you?”.

“I’m trying! But it tickles me” he moaned, making a cheap excuse for his inability to keep his eyes looking up. He sighed, still feeling Crowley’s breath all over his face. The feeling was certainly distracting. Plus, that tongue, he thought. Surely it wasn’t necessary to have it sticking out that way, not that he was going to complain. It looked like it could do some weird things. This image sent shivers down his spine.

“Alright” said Crowley after a while. “All set and ready to perform some punky miracles” he opened his arms as if showing a piece of art to an audience.

Aziraphale examined himself in the mirror for a few minutes, glad to have a little break from Crowley's touch. The demon had done a beautiful job. “I don’t look too bad, do I?” he didn’t want to recognise he was actually quite pleased with the result. What would Gabriel think if he saw him like this? That thought made him feel a little rebellious but he immediately discarded it. That was not something for an angel to feel.

“You look as good as always, just… a little bit more badass” Crowley winked and stared at the angel for a bit longer, taking pride in his work. He watched Aziraphale looking at himself in the mirror, the smile widening each second. Crowley could tell that the angel was pleased with the result and he started smiling as well. He found the image really endearing, all the angel's softness still making its way through the new look and resulting in a delightful contradiction. He was proud and couldn't wait to show the result to everyone in the pub. “Shall we go?” he said after a moment as he opened the door. Aziraphale went outside, still a bit hesitant but beaming.

“C’mon, let’s grab a drink, relax a bit and go find that miracle-needing human of yours” said Crowley and once again took Aziraphale by the hand to lead him to the bar. The angel noticed the black polished nails and thought they fit the demon almost too well. He wished he had miracled black nail polish for him too, but settled for admiring Crowley's hand entangled in his. It was warm.

“Two scotches” said the demon to the barman as soon as they got close enough. Aziraphale looked around, now missing the reassuring feeling of the demon’s hand against his. He was perplexed with everything going on in the pub. He didn’t feel comfortable enough surrounded by all these young men and women. At least he could tell they were having fun.

“Here you go, angel” Crowley handed him the glass of scotch. Aziraphale briefly brushed his fingers against Crowley's. He always took the chance to do so, lingering in the demon's touch. Crowley clinked their glasses. “To punk” he said. Aziraphale smiled and took a sip.

“Oh, oh, God! This is bad” Aziraphale stuck his tongue out in disgust, trying to get the flavour out of his mouth. “Is this really scotch? I think he scammed you” the demon laughed at Aziraphale’s reaction.

“They don’t drink that Macallan you like in this place, I expect that doesn’t come as a surprise to you” he teased. “You could easily fix it, though” he shrugged and took a sip from his own glass and exaggeratedly humming in delight.

“Yes, but it wouldn’t be the same” he pouted, looking at the glass with a sad expression. He took another sip and made another contorted face. He then looked back at the demon with big soft eyes. Crowley sighed, unable to ignore that look, intensified by the eyeliner. He cursed himself for his own ideas.

“You truly can’t do anything without me, can you?” he snapped his fingers, still amazed at how spoiled the angel was. Probably his own fault, though. “Have another sip, go on” he encouraged.

“Oh, this is much better… Thank you, Crowley” he smiled at him shyly and went to look for a place to sit before the demon could say anything. Crowley watched him go for a moment before following him.

They sat in a little table in the end corner of the pub, placed on top of a platform, which made it perfect for surveillance tasks.

“So, who are we looking for?” said Crowley, already scrambled limbs in the tiny chair.

“It’s this young man that is struggling with his family. Poor dear boy, not a very nice uprising, you see?” he took a sip from his glass. “His mother died when he was just a child and his father never took proper care of him. I understand he has started doing drugs, nothing too serious. Yet. So I need to make sure he doesn’t go down that road” he explained.

“Right. And how does he look like?” he asked.

“He is supposed to have three earrings on his left ear, six on his right and one on his nipple. Although I’m still not confident we will be able to check that one” he frowned in concern. Crowley looked at the folks and then at Aziraphale raising an eyebrow. “I know... I thought, how many people can actually be wearing that many piercings? I guess I wasn’t expecting this many” he laughed, surprised by how unprepared he had come to this mission. If they did find the kid he would need to properly thank Crowley. They stayed there, sipping on their drinks and catching up. The place was crowded with people with three earrings on their left ears and six on their right one and the music was loud enough to discuss any heavenly or hellish matter and not worry about anyone eavesdropping.

“Let me go get us some more” said Crowley after he took his last sip, taking Aziraphale’s glass from his hand. “I will look around and see if I meet anyone matching your description” he offered. “Perhaps tempt him to get high tonight?” he couldn't help himself.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale complained, trying to hide a smile, as the demon sauntered towards the bar. Aziraphale couldn’t help but notice some heads turning to look at Crowley as he passed by. He could only empathise with those humans, he had spent too many centuries studying the movement of those hips now to deny it. He sighed.

Aziraphale started looking at the crowd in search for the kid. It was going to be more complicated than expected, but that didn’t discourage him. Crowley was going to help and he was already feeling more comfortable in the pub. It was an interesting place filled with interesting people. He had to do some research on new urban tribes once he got back to the bookshop, he thought to himself.

“Is this seat taken?” someone pulled Aziraphale out from his own thoughts.

“Pardon me?” he blinked twice and saw a man wide as a wardrobe staring at him.

“I was wondering if this seat is taken or if I can sit and make you some company". Instead of waiting for an answer, he just sat down. Aziraphale would have sworn he heard the chair creak under his weight.

“Well, actually…” he looked at the bar and saw Crowley chatting with the bartender. “I’m waiting for a friend to bring us something to drink,” he said. “But I guess you could sit here for a minute,” he smiled, trying to be polite while wishing Crowley was back as soon as possible. He could tell the man was not in it just for the sake of making Aziraphale some company and he was unsure as to how decline him without being unkind.

“What is an angel like you doing in a place like this?” he said.

“Wh- an angel?” he opened his eyes in shock. How could he-

“Well, you do look like some kind of apparition to me. And one does not let apparitions escape, do you?” he said and placed a hand on Aziraphale's thigh. His muscles tensed in response, feeling utterly uncomfortable with the situation.

“Oh, well. I’m waiting for my friend, you see?” Aziraphale avoided looking the man directly and gestured towards Crowley. “He will be here any minute now” a tense smile in his lips.

“That ginger? He is no man for you. Too skinny, if you ask me. Plus, he seems to be focused on the bartender” he said has he slid his hand further up Aziraphale’s thigh and starting to draw circles in one of the jeans' holes. The angel shivered for all the wrong reasons.

“He is getting us some drinks” Aziraphale insisted, now looking at his thigh and dreading how far this man was willing to go. “He will be back in a minute” he tried to push the man’s hand away from him, but it seemed to encourage him even more. The man pulled the chair closer to Aziraphale and leaned in to whisper in his ear, blocking Aziraphale’s view of the bar. The angel was as tense as a bowstring, wondering when Crowley would stop talking to the blessed bartender and come help him. After all, he couldn’t miracle himself out of the situation. He would draw too much attention and risk the mission he was here to do.

“Aziraphale! Who is this friend you got here?” Crowley’s voice, charged with constrained violence despite the kind words, made the man slowly lean back. Aziraphale sighed in relief, although he could tell the man was not pleased with the interruption. “Was he bothering you, angel?” before any of them could answer to that, he went in to deeply kiss Aziraphale in the mouth, as if marking territory. He started to put on a little bit of a show just to make the intruder jealous. He let a groan escape, surprised at the angel's positive response to the kiss. Right before he forgot the initial purpose of the kiss, he bit the angel's lower lip and slowly withdrew, his hand still on Aziraphale's chin. His lips were red and swollen and he had to gulp to steady himself before speaking. “Should I punch him? Just say the word, angel, and I will” he asked, still looking at Aziraphale. It was a hiss that could be heard from several feet away.

“Oh, no, dear. I don’t think it will be necessary” Aziraphale blushed, all caught up in the situation and still feeling Crowley’s lips on his own. He thought of touching his own mouth, wishing the sensation to be back and perhaps then being able to determine what it was that Crowley tasted like. What a delightful event, despite the circumstances, almost like the crepes they had in Paris.

“I was talking to him while you were flirting with the bartender, so don’t come now like you own the place, you little shit” said the man, standing up and facing Crowley. He was plainly bigger than the demon but that didn’t make him even flinch.

“I don’t own a thing, but if you dare even look at him ever again, you will know the wrath of Hell before you know it. And I promise you, you will not like it” he said and showed his true face for a second. The man squeaked and ran outside as fast as he could. The demon laughed, enjoying every second of it, and turned to Aziraphale. “Are you alright, angel?”.

“Hum… yes, thank you, Crowley. You did save me there” he said, all flustered and shaken by all that had happened. He watched the demon sit and take a sip of his glass as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on. “Did you just kiss me?” he blurted out, unable to stop himself.

“Yeah, why’d you ask?” the demon answered nonchalantly. Truth be told, he was doing some impressive calculations in his head in order to ascertain if he had just made a big stupid mistake.

“Well, you have never done that before” Aziraphale replied. “I didn’t expect it, to be honest. I’m not quite sure if it was necessary, but I appreciate it. Better to be safe than sorry” he smiled and took a sip of scotch. His face did not contort this time, Crowley had remembered to miracle it while he was at the bar. “Oh, and I appreciate this too” he looked at the glass and then at the demon. “I’m glad you did. It wasn’t bad, actually. I had been afraid we would explode or something, you know, being a demon and an angel” he laughed. The use of that past tense did not escape Crowley and he added it to his calculations.

“You’ve got a point. Good thing I'm not one to think things through, right?” he kept his poker face on.

“Not only we did not explode” Aziraphale kept on, carefully measuring his words “but it felt rather nice”.

“Right” Crowley agreed, calculations shattered to pieces.

“Perhaps we should try it again?” said Aziraphale, more to the glass in his hand than to Crowley. “To keep up appearances, of course. All these people now think we are some sort of romantic couple” he quickly added.

“Sure, I- I don’t see why not,” he said, unable to deny the angel anything he requested from him. Not that he would complain of this particular request. “For the sake of appearances”.

“So” he wiggled on his chair. “Hum, should we… try it again now?” the angel leaned forward and backward and forward again, hesitance written on his face.

“Yeah, go ahead” Crowley gestured to invite the angel to lean in, marvelled at his own ability to maintain a casual tone.

Aziraphale could feel the adrenaline rushing through his veins, making his palms sweat and his heart thump. He was eager to try kissing again. It had been six thousand times better than he had imagined and he couldn't let go such a pleasure so easily, especially one that he could share with his demon. He closed his eyes and stick out his lips aiming for Crowley's. It was such an innocent expression that it made Crowley’s heart flutter. The demon closed his own eyes right before their lips touched. It was a chaste kiss, very different from the one they had shared just moments ago, but just as enjoyable. Crowley raised a hand and placed it on the angel’s cheek just like he had done in the toilet, but now taking the freedom to caress the soft skin with a gentle thumb. Eventually, they parted. Somehow, they were both gasping for air.

“Oh” Aziraphale managed to say. “That was quite something” he chuckled and opened his eyes to look at the demon’s. Crowley’s eyes had gone all serpentine, Aziraphale could see that through the dark glasses, and nodded, hand still on Aziraphale’s face. “I think we could repeat that, wouldn’t you say so?” before Crowley had a chance to answer, the angel was kissing him again, this time with more intent.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is no longer about Crowley saving Aziraphale, but Crowley and Aziraphale having a good time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, the second part to the punk Crowley and punk Aziraphale adventure. As always, I hope you enjoy it and please know that comments are welcome :)

“Angel, angel, please stop one moment” Crowley raised his hands, pleading for a rest. He licked his lips and breathed heavily, trying to regain his composure.

“Is there something wrong, dear?” Aziraphale scanned his face or any signs of discomfort, frowning in concern.

“No” the demon put his hands on his own knees for leverage. “Well, kind of?” he paused, unsure as to what to say next. Alright, this has been a wahoo-deserving two hours, he could give the angel that. But it seemed to come with a price, judging by how tight his pants suddenly felt. Apparently, there was no effort required to make an effort, provided that two hours of smooching had not felt like an effort at all. He moved, trying to readjust his tight jeans but the tension made him growl.

“Is there anything I can do to help you with?” Aziraphale placed a hand on Crowley’s knee and leaned in to see him better, trying to decipher Crowley’s expression.

“Ngk” was everything the demon could say.

“Should we put…” he swished his free hand between them, looking for the right word _“this_ on hold?” Crowley nodded and patted the angel’s hand.

“Perhaps we could focus on something else” Crowley suggested. “What about that miracle you had to perform?”

“Oh, yes. Right. Almost forgot about that” he giggled and sat back, withdrawing his hand from the demon. “You said earlier you would talk to some people, see if you could find some clue… Did you have any luck with that?” he asked, remembering how Crowley had spent too long talking to the bartender.

“Actually, I did, yes” he answered, surprised at his own achievement. “Apparently, the bartender is also a tattoo artist and piercing-maker or whatever it is called. Anyway, he pierces people upon request. Which is very lucky for us, right?” he shifted position and placed his elbow over the back of the chair in a cocky gesture, tilting his head. Aziraphale almost tutted at that but managed to restrain himself and let the demon speak. “Turns out he remembered piercing this kid’s nipple a few weeks ago and he matches your description. Not that it is very thorough, but he could be our kid, right?” he took a sip of his glass and then continued. “He should be coming tonight. He goes by Red, but his actual name is Alfred. No wonder why he is using a fake name, but I guess it’s not his fault… Anyway, we should be looking for a ginger, hence the fake name”.

“Oh, Crowley, thank you so very much” the angel was beaming. He then scowled. “Wait, you did know all that and waited all this time before saying anything!? We could have been through with it already!” he pouted, suddenly craving a cup of tea by his fireplace.

“Oi! It wasn’t me who thought of this... pastime, was I?”

“Well, you did start it” Aziraphale crossed his arms over his chest defensively and looked away.

“Yeah” Crowley replied sarcastically. “To save you! From that giant!” he gestured towards where the man had run off earlier. Crowley was legitimately angry at the ungrateful angel.

“Well, that is technically correct” Aziraphale granted. “But you could have stopped me and said something and then we could… we could have… maybe we could have resumed the pastime back at the bookshop. It would have definitely been more comfortable”.

“Oh, yes, yes, of course. Right. Because you always expect me to do all the thinking. Well, you know what? I was in no position to think at all” he gestured with his arms. “Didn’t it occur to you that, perhaps, a needy human who should know better than doing drugs was not my priority when you were here obscenely kissing me?” he almost shouted.

“Obscenely?” Aziraphale scoffed and side-looked at the demon. He couldn’t help but notice his hurt expression and finally gave in. He turned his head to Crowley. “I suppose you have a point. I was not in my right mind either, so it wasn’t fair for me to expect you to be” he apologised. “It’s such a pleasant activity, isn’t it? That everything else seems just not as important” he chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. Crowley took another sip of his drink.

“Let’s get this done with, angel” he said, looking at something behind Aziraphale. “I think this is your chance”. Aziraphale turned around and saw a chubby teenager covered in exactly ten piercings, one of which could only be seen through the t-shirt fabric if you knew it was there, having a shot. He was sitting with a very skinny and older man.

Aziraphale looked at the demon and nodded thankfully before standing up and walking to the table where the kid that went by Red was sitting and introduced himself.

Crowley watched the scene develop from his chair, taking a sip of his drink from time to time. He had always enjoyed observing the angel work. Or eat. Or talk, actually. Anything really but the blasted magic tricks. He scratched his neck idly when Aziraphale finally returned to his seat.

“Well, work is complete” he said with a contented sigh. “Would you like a celebratory refill?” Aziraphale offered, pointing at the now empty glass that Crowley was still holding. The demon looked at it and thought for a moment.

“Perhaps we should move somewhere else? I’ll drive” he stood up and took Aziraphale’s hand before walking towards the door. Aziraphale noticed again the semi-hidden tattoo on Crowley’s lower back. ‘Are those a pair of white wings?’, Aziraphale thought.

They exited the bar and Aziraphale took in a deep breath of relatively fresh air. It was London after all. The Bentley was parked right there and Crowley was already getting in. Aziraphale rushed and took his usual passenger seat. He immediately miracled his regular clothes back on.

They silently agreed to go to the bookshop, where warmth, coziness and good wine would be waiting for both of them. Crowley rushed through the streets of London, smirking when he noticed the angel grabbing the door and breathing heavily. Nonetheless, Aziraphale didn’t complain, afraid of annoying the demon once again. After a few moments, the car shrieked and Crowley parked it right on the door of the bookshop. The engine stopped itself.

“Well, angel, I’m impressed” he said, placing his hands on his hips as in astonishment.

“Wh- How so?” Aziraphale was putting his bowtie and vest back in place, which was convenient in order to avoid Crowley’s gaze.

“You didn’t make a single comment on my driving”.

“I suppose I didn’t, did I?” he smiled shyly, wishing he had made some kind of remark. Crowley chuckled before exiting the car and entering the bookshop. He snapped his fingers and a roaring fire appeared in the fireplace. Aziraphale entered right before him and locked the door.

“Oh, lovely fire, thank you” Crowley growled at the angel’s gratitude out of pure habit. “Should I open a bottle of wine, dear?” Aziraphale said, going to the little kitchen he had in the back of the shop. Crowley sprawled on the sofa in front of the fire and waited for Aziraphale to pour two glasses. The angel sat on a chair nearby, playing absentmindedly with his cup.

“I was thinking...” said Crowley. “That perhaps you should properly thank me for my help with that Alfred kid” he looked at his glass and then to Aziraphale, an eyebrow arched above his sunglasses. The angel stopped fiddling with his glass and looked to Crowley momentarily before shifting uncomfortably.

“Whatever do you mean, dear?” Aziraphale was shocked, given Crowley’s natural aversion to gratitude.

“Well… It seems to me that such an effort should be repaid, right?”

“I suppose so” he agreed. “What did you have in mind?” Aziraphale did have something in mind, but he would not say it out loud.

Crowley patted the sofa, inviting the angel to sit right next to him. Aziraphale obliged, glass of wine still in his hand, and sat very still awaiting for instructions. Before saying anything else, Crowley leaned forward and kissed Aziraphale lavishly, placing his arm around him in a tight embrace. The angel reveled in the demon’s lips taste, sweet and hungry. Their lips parted and Crowley traced kisses all the way to the angel’s ear. “This is what I have in mind” he whispered and licked Aziraphale’s earlobe. The angel shivered at the new sensation, as they didn’t move further from kissing back at the bar.

Aziraphale moved back just enough to look at the demon’s face, eyes half-closed and drunk with pleasure. “It seems like a fair enough payment for your help, wouldn’tyousayso?” Aziraphale managed to say.

“Shut up” said the demon before grabbing Aziraphale’s chin and resuming this new little pastime of theirs.


End file.
